Something Beautiful
by OdairBear
Summary: "I was lost but you found me drowning in the never-ending. I just needed someone to find. Everything felt so empty. Until you came around and showed me I'm still alive."- Madeleine Fuhrman. After a failed suicide attempt Tris Prior gets admitted to Chicago Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital. There she meets a guy with a troubled past who shows her that life can be worth living.
1. Chapter 1

1

As I frantically clutch onto the bottle of pills I consider the consequences of what I'm about to do. As usual my ignorance gets the best of me so I disregard that consideration.

I twist off the safety cap, my hands shaking. If you would've asked me my opinion on suicide earlier on in my life, I probably would've told you that it was one of the most selfish actions a person could commit. A lot has happened in the past year, enough to make me change my perception of selfishness.

I was raped. Peter Hadley was his name. We were in the same year at school. I never paid much attention to him. I was always too hung up with my friends. It was one night where I was walking home from Christina's house that everything changed.

Peter offered me a ride and I took it, he seemed friendly enough at the time. He made small talk and I told him where my house was but he didn't care. He made it clear that he didn't have the purest of intentions. In a moment of pure desperation and stupidity I jumped out of the car. I injured my leg pretty badly, enough to where the pain was debilitating. I couldn't get up. Peter stopped the car and came back to my side lifting me up and putting me in the trunk. "You made this so much easier," he told me.  
When we got to what I assumed was his house, he picked me up out of the car and I threw punches at him but he just laughed at my failed attempts. He took me inside and I finally snuck a good punch in, right at his left eye too. He was pissed. He aggressively ripped my clothing off my body. He sloppily touched me for his own sick pleasure then took my virginity.  
It was one of the most excruciating pains I've ever felt in my life. He wasn't even mindful of how injured my leg was, then again why should have I expected him to be gentle? He is a rapist after all.  
A month later I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't tell anyone, Peter threatened to kill me if I did. I got an abortion without my parent's permission and no one ever suspected a thing. Now six months later here I am ready to end my life.

After the abortion I didn't feel anything for a while, I was kind of numb. I dissociated myself from all of my friends and fell into a state of isolation. In the past month I've finally began to feel again. I thought it was a good thing at first, but now the guilt is eating away at me. I hate myself for killing the poor child that was growing inside of me. It could've been someone great and I robbed it from its potential. However I reason that it wouldn't have been someone great considering that Peter would've been the father.

I dump a few pills into my hand and get myself a cup of water. I lock the bathroom door behind me. I swallow each painkiller one by one. When I reach the last one I feel a pang of regret. I actually followed through with it. Soon I'm going to cease to exist. I exit the bathroom and head to my bedroom falling asleep.

"Beatrice, wake up," my mother says whilst shaking me desperately. "Beatrice, please," she pleads her voice becoming more strained. I assume she's been doing this for a while. I open my eyes and once I open my mouth to talk I throw up all over my bed covers. The bright white round tablets are clearly visible in the vomit. I look at my mother and see that she's holding the empty bottle. Then I notice my father behind her.  
"Andrew pick her up, we're taking her to the emergency room," she says and with that I pass out in my father's arms.

When I wake up I cry considering there's nothing else left to do. I was supposed to be dead, not here. I'm in a hospital bed. I have an oxygen cannula inserted in my nose. I find out my body was in the pre-stage of Central Nervous System depression, which would've killed me had it continued to happen. They gave me an antidote called naloxone to rapidly reverse all of the symptoms, just fucking great.

Now I feel like a complete failure. Tris Prior, the girl who can't even end her life right. My family leaves considering I refuse to talk to them and instead a therapist replaces them. He sits next to my bed and he looks at me with a look of bewilderment in his eyes. "Hello Tris my name is Dr. Harrison. I'm going to be performing a psychiatric evaluation on you," he tells me and I scoff.  
"Why? I'm fine," I tell him. "Clearly you aren't fine. People who are fine don't try to overdose on Percocet," he tells me and then I get angry. Who is he to act like he knows me?

"I'm going to do it again once I get out of here so why is anyone even wasting their time on me?" I say annoyed at the fact that people are trying to keep me alive. "Because believe it or not Beatrice, your family cares about you greatly. There is hope and I believe you can get better as long as you're willing to cooperate," he tells me.

"But here's the thing doc, I don't want to cooperate," I say truthfully and he raises his eyebrows. "Obviously there's something you're hiding from everyone and it's eating away at you. Am I correct?" He asks cockily. God damn it.

"You're right but no one's ever going to know because as soon as the next opportunity arises I'm going to kill myself and no one can stop me," I say, my words filled with power. "Well I admire your determination and persistence but maybe it could be more productive if you applied those traits to a different aspect of your life," he tells me and his words just go in one ear and out the other. I'm not retaining or valuing anything he tells me so he might as well be speaking a completely different language.

"Yeah whatever," I mumble. "Well Beatrice you don't seem to be the most compliant person so I'm going to write a referral to Chicago Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital and schedule your intake assessment for tomorrow. After all it is getting fairly late and I think you should get some sleep," He tells me.

There are so many thoughts racing through my head. I'm going to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital tomorrow. This isn't fair. I don't deserve this and to think if I had never would have gotten raped then I probably wouldn't be here right now. It's not fair that I want to die just because of what some asshole did to me. If anyone deserves to die then that's him.

Regardless of that thought, I still want to be dead. After all I'm just as guilty as he is. I killed my baby after all. I silently sob while trying to rest, but sleep doesn't come easy for me tonight. The sound of the oxygen machine is so loud that it's giving me a headache.

Somehow I fall asleep and thankfully it's a deep dreamless sleep. Free of worries and sorrows that will surely be brought back up again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

2

When I wake up in the morning my family is gathered all around me. Caleb's paying attention to the news report that's playing on the television my dad's reading the newspaper and my mother's on the phone. None of them have noticed I'm awake and I'm unsure of whether that's a good or bad thing.

I leave my eyelids slightly agape then a nurse comes in with a tray of breakfast. She wakes me up and I sit up in the bed. I decide that I'm not going to eat anything and my mom is obviously aware of my choice. "Come on Beatrice, you have to eat something," She tells me calmly.  
I eat a lone apple just to appease her. "We're taking you to the hospital at noon. I already packed you a few suitcases and I brought you a change of clothes for you before we leave.

Noon comes far too quickly for my liking. Before I know it I'm up out of the hospital bed and changing out of my hospital gown into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black v-neck along with a pair of slippers from L.L. Bean.

After I'm finished changing I'm back in my room and I'm signing the hospital discharge papers. I follow my parents and Caleb out to our car. I get in the large SUV and take my seat in the very back stretching out over the length of the back seats.

I fall asleep quickly and I wake up when the car hits quite a few bumps. I look up and see a sign for Chicago Lakeshore Hospital. We slowly approach the building and my anxiety increases greatly once it comes in sight. Everyone gets out of the car excluding myself. Caleb comes back in. "Come on Beatrice, you need to get out," he tells me and I shake my head no vigorously. "I'm not going in there," I tell him.  
"But you have to, you need to get better Bea," he tells me and I reluctantly get out of the car and he embraces me in a hug.

We walk in together, trailing behind our mother and father. He holds my hand and I want to smile but I can't I'm not even sure if I'm capable of it anymore. We arrive in the lobby and they take my mother and I back into a room where they ask me about my history. I answer the typical stuff and when the medical stuff comes up there are some questions I'm uncomfortable answering. "Beatrice, would you like to be alone for this part?" the woman who's doing my intake assessment asks.  
"Yes," I tell her and my mother exits the room. No matter how much I trust my mom, there's no way I'm letting her know about some parts of my past.

She asks me questions about past self-harm, suicidal Ideation eating disorders, and drug use. "Now have you experienced any trauma leading up to this most recent suicide attempt?"

I break into hysterics. "Okay, so I was raped. I was pregnant with the rapist's child. I lost all of my friends. I got an abortion without my parents knowledge, and I've been getting flashbacks frequently relating to having my virginity so abruptly taken from me," I say, telling her everything I couldn't say while my mother was in the room. She continues prodding me with questions about my traumatic experiences until I break down into tears. After that we end with that and Invite my mother back in.

We finish the intake assessment and I hate every second of it. I really don't want to go into the hospital. The only thing that keeps me going is the fact I'll be able to kill myself once I get out of it.

I can't live with all this guilt. I killed my baby, an innocent soul. I cannot accept it and move on with my life, therefore I'd continue to live with the guilt eating me alive until I eventually die. It's obviously a better option to end it all now so I don't have to endure the pain of guilt for the rest of my days.

They take the suitcases my mother packed and lead me back through locked doors. I didn't say goodbye to my parents. I suppose that they could come visit me during visiting hours but I hope that they don't.

We walk down a hallway until we reach the elevators the male leading me swipes a keycard and the elevator opens. They usher me into the elevator and follow in after me. He swipes his keycard again on the inside then punches in the code for the floor we're going to. We arrive at the fifth floor and I'm again the first one to get off. It's mid-day and the man explains that the reason the kids aren't around is because they're either at art therapy, music therapy, or yoga therapy depending on the group that they're in.

"Oh by the way my name is Max should you need to ask me anything," He tells me. I don't want to ask questions but my curiosity gets the best of me. "Are the boys are girls separated?" I ask.  
"Normally they are but we have a considerable amount more of patients than we normally do, so for the moment we have three groups. Group A is all girls, group B is all boys, and Group C is mixed. Group A and Group B are all filled so you'll be in group C, which means there's a possibility that you'll room with a boy but we try our hardest to make sure that doesn't happen. However on the off chance that you do, there are room checks every fifteen minutes during room time and bedtime so I can assure you that you'd be constantly monitored," he tells me.

He writes my name on a board stating my name, gender, level, and room number. "Levels are to determine whether you're allowed to leave the unit, if you're on level two you have permission to go downstairs for lunch, recreation time, movement therapy, yoga therapy, school, and art therapy. You're on level one until you see your doctor which means you have to stay upstairs at all times. Now the other time you can receive level one limitations is when your safety level is low. Every group you are asked to state your safety level on a scale of one to ten. One meaning you aren't safe at all and ten meaning you're completely fine. If you're at a two or a one, that means you're on level one and you have to stay on the unit. A lot to take in?"

I slightly nod and he smiles at me, "It's okay, you'll catch on. I'm going to lead you to your room which is number 110. Your stuff should be in there, you'll be rooming with Four."

"_Four?_" I ask slightly amused. "He won't let anyone address him any other way," Max says with a slight laugh causing me to smile. He must find the nickname slightly odd too. I process what he said though, '_He_ won't let anyone address him any other way,' shit. I'm rooming with a guy, maybe if I tell him about my previous trauma involving boys I can switch to a girl roommate. "Um… I'm rooming with a guy?" I ask slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, I'm sorry Tris, this is the last room available until someone else discharges," he tells me and I internally groan. I enter the room and Max abandons me. My clothes are laying on my bed in piles and I begin to put them away in the drawers underneath my bed and in the dresser next to the bed. My mom packed me a bunch of sweatpants, leggings, T-shirts sweatshirts, and 'Ugly' sweaters.

There are also Ugg boots and slippers underneath all of the clothing. I change out of my top and into a sweatshirt. I pull my sweatpants off and prepare to slide my leggings on when the door opens behind me. Shit I'm literally only in a sweatshirt and a thong. I hurry to pull my leggings on and once I get them on I'm too embarrassed to turn around and face him. Despite my embarrassment I do turn around.

"They didn't tell me I'd be rooming with a girl," he says almost annoyed. "I wasn't too thrilled with the idea either," I say with a scoff.  
"Is that why you greeted me with a strip show?" he asks. "I was pulling my pants on dumbass," I say irritated at him. I slightly gasp when I notice how hot he is.

He smirks at me and I roll my eyes while getting my hairbrush out. I run it through my hair until it's straight. "So why are you here?" he asks me from across the room.  
"Suicide attempt, you?" I answer and he eyes me warily. "I killed my dad," he tells me.

"Why?" I ask, subconsciously prodding at him. "He tried smothering me with a pillow so I shot him," he tells me as if it's no big deal. "Seems justified," I tell him.

"You don't seem scared of me," he says slightly amused. "It's because I'm not," I tell him.

"I just told you I took someone's life and you aren't scared of me?" he asks seeming somewhat bewildered. "I took someone's life too, that's why I tried killing myself," I confess. He stares at me wide eyed and I frown. I lay down on the bed and he prods at me for more information, "Was it someone close to you?" he asks me.

"Very close," I tell him.


End file.
